One Good Turn
by quotient
Summary: Preseries. They say one good turn deserves another, so Dean picks up a hitchhiker.


Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue

Author's Note: So…Ever wonder how Dean knew to go back for Sam in the pilot?

**One Good Turn**

He wakes up with a start to someone knocking. It takes him a moment to take in the sympathetic expression of the police officer looking in on him through the car window. The man is still young enough to not have developed the cynical hard edge of most highway cops that Dean's encountered over the years.

He says, "Sir, are you okay?"

Dean's mouth tastes like cotton balls. He licks his dry lips. "Sorry."

"Sir?"

"M'fine. Sorry."

The guy gives a small smile. "It's alright. There's a motel," He says through the glass, "if you take the next exit."

"Yeah." And then, because he's got nothing else to say, "Sorry."

"Need me to follow you? Make sure you get off the road okay?"

"No, it's okay. I'm good. Thanks."

Two miles down the road, the officer long gone into the distance, Dean thinks that stopping might be a good idea. But he misses the exit and suddenly he has to keep going, because there's nothing left to do.

* * *

He lifts his arm over his head as though that will actually keep him dry. It's raining so hard he can barely see three feet in front of him. The waitress in the diner offers him a matronly smile and is already setting down coffee in front of him when he slides onto a bar stool. She talks about fresh pie and ice cream, if he's interested, for desert.

"And whatever you do," she says, "don't order the fish."

Dean taps the counter absently, counting under his breath. He snags a newspaper lying discarded beside him. There's a front page story about an accident involving a school bus. None of the kids made it out alive. He eats the smoked turkey sandwich in silence, flipping from the front page of the newspaper to the obituaries. Three deaths he recognizes as a werewolf, one as a curse, and four are murders that the police haven't figured out yet.

The pie is as good as roadside diner pie can get. The ice cream is too creamy and makes him feel sick. Not for the first time, Dean suspects he may be lactose intolerant. Or something. When he looks at the bill, he sees he is only charged for the sandwich. Afterwards he sneaks around back to have sex with the waitress. They have to do it quickly because of the rain. Neither of them wants to catch pneumonia.

Back in the motel room, Dean makes another phone call that doesn't go anywhere. He hangs up, cleans his guns, and goes to sleep to the sound of rain.

* * *

He would ask why he bothers to stop by the side of the road to pick up the hitchhiker, but the empty passenger seat won't give him an answer. So Dean stops. The guy runs up to the car, opens the door. His backpack is ridiculously small for something that carries all your worldly possessions.

"Nice car." The guy says. He smells like he's never seen the inside of a shower. Looks like it, too.

Dean smiles, "Thanks."

They don't talk, which is just as well. Dean's playing Motorhead non-stop. Lately he's been in the mood for it. Sometimes the guy will rifle through his bag, coming up with a book, or a map. Dean's almost tempted to ask him where he's going, what he's going to do when he gets there. The problem with questions, though, is you don't always like the answers. He tries to imagine how he would feel if he learned this guy were the next Charles Manson, but he can't. Dean's not that type of person. What happens, happens, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

They part ways in Wichita. The guy thumps the roof of the car and makes Dean cringe. He switches out Motorhead for Metallica. With _Enter Sandman_ loud in his ears, he eyes the empty seat, considers his silent cell phone. Two miles later, he turns around.

"Need a lift?" He asks the guy when he catches up to him.

"Thought you were headed the other way."

Dean shrugs, "Turns out I've been heading in the wrong direction."

The guy yanks open the door. Dean shifts into drive, heading off down the road. The Metallica tape finishes, lapsing into silence. After a moment, the guy reaches down, grabs the box of tapes at his feet, and puts in another one.

* * *

California is bright and pretty even though it's autumn. Dean knew there was a reason he hated the place. He drops the guy off just inside the confines of Palo Alto. This time, the guy's smile is wide and genuine. Dean can't help but give one back.

"Thanks, man. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

"S'nothing, man. I know what it's like to need help. One good turn deserves another."

The guy gives a full throated laugh. He says, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"You too, man. See ya."

Dean watches in his rear-view mirror. The guy gives a little wave before he turns and is lost in the crowd. For the first time, Dean feels good. He's got a mission, he's got a destination, and maybe, just maybe, this time round he's got a little hope.

* * *

Dean drives away before Sam disappears into his apartment. There's a nasty ache in his chest that he refuses to acknowledge, but it's not half as bad as it was two years ago. There's a real chance at reconciliation. He might be alone now, but he can always come back.

He doesn't get very far before he catches a familiar figure waving from the sidewalk. He pulls over, a smile on his lips.

"Need a lift?" He asks once he's rolled down the window.

The guy leans down with a smile of his own. "Nah, not this time."

"You find what you were looking for?"

The guy's smile widens, and he leans forward, angling his face slightly. His eyes glint unnaturally in the lamplight, an unbelievable gold. "You could say that." He says.

Dean feels sick.

"Go check on your brother, Dean," it smirks. And while Dean's trying desperately to put the car into gear, it pulls out and away, stepping back from the curb.

Finally the car starts moving. Dean pulls a u-turn in the middle of the road. He thinks he smells smoke in the air. As he drives by, the thing in man's clothing calls out, "One good turn, Dean."

The laughter follows him all the way back to Sam's apartment.


End file.
